The Spellbook

As I wandered the halls of the basement, trying to find an empty shelf to store old dictionaries, I sneezed again. Stirring up even more dust bunnies in the musty, stale air. I never realized how many books had been relegated to storage due to the creations of e-books.

After a small eternity, I found a shelf and slid the heavy box next to a collection of cookbooks. Another type of written word forgotten about because of the internet. Yes, the internet has made things easier in a great many ways, but it was also kinda sad to see rows and rows of books that nobody will ever hold again because you could now download 50 of them for $9.99 and hold them all in the palm of your hand.

I wiped my hands on my pants and stretched my aching arm muscles out. I glanced around the basement and made a mental note to ask my boss about possibly auctioning some of theses books off. It could raise some money and we could expand our children’s program. Maybe we could get more out of these boxes than an asthma attack.

I walked to the back corner where the oldest books were stored and pulled out my cell phone to take pictures to research values of the books. Best to be armed with knowledge before presenting my idea.

As I crouched down I noticed that the box was not lined up with the others. It stuck slightly further than the others. I tried to push it back, but it wouldn’t budge. I pulled out the box, thinking I would find something behind it, instead I found a small door. I thought it was an old fuse box, but why would it be near the floor? I moved the box to a nearby table and crouched down. I turned on my flashlight app; the single dim 40 watt bulb with string pull, in the corner of the room, did not cast enough light to see under the shelf.

The wooden door had a small crystal knob, it looked really old. I gently tugged, but it felt stuck. I twisted the knob to the left, and the door opened slightly. I twisted it back to the right and it opened more. One more twist to the left and the door opened on surprisingly quiet hinges.

There were sparkles in the air that shimmered in the light from my phone. I looked at the door and the knob and noticed how clean they were. This area of the basement was rarely visited, dust covered everything. I caught a whiff of fresh baked cinnamon bread and thought maybe the dust was messing with more than just my allergies. I looked inside the door and saw a leather-bound book. I picked it up and cradled it in my arms and carried it to the table.

It felt warm to the touch, maybe the door way connected to an old air vent. I looked for a title and after finding none, I looked for a publishing mark. There was a twisted serpent branded into the spine, but nothing else. I traced my finger over it and I could feel each scale of the snake, like it was just put there a few minutes ago instead of the hundreds of years old that the book appeared to be.

I gingerly opened the cover and it flexed, instead of cracking. This book was very well cared for. No finger prints, no coffee stains or water damage. There was nothing on the flyleaf page, no title page. No identifying marks at all except for the twisted serpent.

It was about the size of a magazine and 2 inches thick. There was some heft to the book, but much less than the bulky dictionaries I had lugged down here.

I glanced at my phone and noticed it was nearly closing time. My boss was a strict clock watcher. I quickly closed the door, replaced the box and hid the book under my shirt. As I climbed the stairs, I could feel the warmth of the leather on my back. I locked the basement door and carefully walked over to my desk in the corner.

“About time you finished down there. Next time, less texting and more doing your assigned tasks in a timely fashion.” Said Mrs. Waters, the iron maiden who took her job of head librarian very seriously. She looked like she was here when they put the first book on the shelves, and had never left. She always wore a lace collared white button up shirt and her hair was always in a tidy bun. Her glasses were either perched on the end of her nose or hung around her neck from a gold chain.

“Yes ma’am. Sorry. Have a nice night.” I made a fuss of fishing out my car keys out of my messenger bag, as I discreetly slipped the book in it. I put on my jacket and walked outside. Mrs. Waters never let anybody lock up; she was like a jailer with her keys.

“Remember 9 a.m. sharp tomorrow.” I swear her voice was sometimes worse than nails on a chalk board. “I am attending a board meeting and I want to make sure you know what you are doing.”

“I remember, 9 a.m.” I calmly walked to my car, gently laid my messenger in the passenger seat and drove away. I stopped for some steamed dumplings and rice before heading home.

I parked my car in front of a small cottage, situated in the back corner of a huge property. I waved at Ms. Evergreen, the owner, and saw the curtain flutter on the 2^nd floor. She rented this cottage house out for small amount to college and grad students in exchange for doing work around the property and in her house. I mowed the lawn and trimmed hedges. Her equipment was top notch so it didn’t take much of my time.

I was working on my doctorate in ancient literature and my job at the library killed two birds with one stone. I earned enough money to pay my bills and could research during down times.

After dinner and quick shower, I settled at the island counter with the old book. I grabbed a legal pad and pen and once again looked for markings on the book. I sketched the serpent and took pics of it for reference in my research. I had never seen anything like it before and was once again taken aback by how detailed it was.

I opened it up to the first written page and noticed that is was written in Portuguese. I had studied Spanish for many years and could understand most of it, since the languages were similar. I skimmed through the first few pages and realized it was some kind of magicians spell book. I thought maybe it was some sort of movie prop, but it seemed real to me.

I jotted down phrases I was unsure of, some of which seemed like ingredients. I leafed through some more pages before putting it and my notepad, back in my bag. I climbed into bed just before midnight, weary from the day.

That night I dreamed of dragons, knights, princesses and royal kings. I dreamed in first person of walking around a castle in a deep blue robe. I seemed to spend a lot time in some sort of laboratory. I awoke to harsh sunlight and Katy Perry music; feeling out of sorts from being in the middle-ages all night long.

A soft horn honk to by land lady as I drove away and I was on my way to work. I put two quarters in the vending machine to get a soda for later. I put it away in the small fridge tucked under the counter and put my things away on my desk. Mrs. Water was already at her huge desk, I am not sure she ever left. Maybe she lived upstairs and slept upside down with the bats….OK that was mean.

“Good morning ma’am. How are you this morning?” She might be an old battle ax, but I was raised with manners.

“I am well. You are early, for once. You will find a detailed list of everything I expect you to accomplish today. There is a time line to help you.” She said in clipped tones as she refolded the newspaper she finished reading. She placed it carefully in the recycling bin before grabbing her tan jacket. White shirts, tan or gray or beige skirts, white heels. The woman didn’t own anything else. I bet my bright orange shoes made her cringe. My clothing was conservative, but never my shoes.

“I will be back here by closing. Have a good day.” She nodded slightly before walking passed me and out the door. I caught the scent of cinnamon as the door closed.

I flipped the sign from closed to open and fired up the computers in the research areas. The main desk had an up to date laptop for checking out books, which I still found odd. I know Mrs. Waters still kept a large ancient ledger with the entire library’s inventory. I grabbed it off the shelf behind her desk and skimmed through it trying to find the spell book, nothing.

A group of high school kids came in looking for help on their senior thesis papers and I spent a few moments pointing them in the right directions. I put the ledger away and then added a few books to the toddler table before the 10 a.m. reading group came in. The computer beeped that there were internet orders to fill.

There was a rush before lunch that kept me away from my research. I was anxious to log into the library system and search for the serpent logo. I changed the sign to “be back after lunch”, turned off the lights and sat down at the computer.

I opened two browser pages, one for the logo search and one for translating the Portuguese. I uploaded my phone picture from my cloud account and let the search engine do its thing. Minimizing that page, I started typing phrases from my list, writing the words as I went. The words were seemed innocuous enough, mushrooms, leaves, different herbs. Maybe this was a cookbook after all. Then I came across the word for death – Morte. The searched a few more words and realized it was a spell for raising and communicating with the dead.

Stunned, I quickly closed that page and brought up the logo search and saw that it had searched more than 2 million images and found nothing. I closed out everything and deleted my search history. I took the book from my bag and went to the copier to copy as much as I could in the remaining few minutes of my lunch hour. I made it through half the book, while gobbling down a yogurt and water.

I took the book down to the basement, still marveled on how warm the book felt in my arms, despite how chilled the air was down here. I reluctantly put the book back and headed back upstairs. I glanced back toward the back corner as I reached the top of the stairs and thoughts I saw sparkles again. We really needed an air filter down here.

I changed the sign and turned on the lights, not that we had many customers after lunch. I had just sat down to bring up my doctorate research when the phone rand. It was Mrs. Waters, checking up on me. “How has the day progressed?”

“Things are going smoothly as usual.” I glanced at her to-do list; everything was finished except taking out the trash.

“Good. I will be there within the hour.”

“Meeting get done early?”

“Yes, for once.” And with that she hung up. No idle chit chat.

I filled another internet order and picked up all the trash. To make sure all things were just so I polished the tables and ran the vacuum. I had just put everything away when the door chimed, announcing Mrs. Waters return.

As she closed the door I smelled cinnamon bread again. I saw her flip the sign to closed and lock the door. She slowly turned towards me and asked, “So what have you learned today?”

I was confused, “What do you mean?”

“I know you found it. I know about your searches. I am not stupid.” With each question, she stepped closer to me. I swallowed uneasily and felt a drop of sweat roll down between my shoulder blades.

“I returned the book. I didn’t find anything relevant in my searches; I just translated a few phrases. I will give you my notes and the copies I made.” I knew I was rambling, but the look the old lady was giving me scared me.

“Keep everything. You can use it as a starting point in your training.” Mrs. Waters unlocked the basement door and silently walked down the stairs. I followed after a few moments, confused and curious. As I reached the bottom, I smelled that scent even more strongly than before. I looked to where I found the book and saw Mrs. Waters dressed in a rich green velvet robe and hat.

“Come my child. I will teach you all you need to know. And one day, after I am gone, you will become the teacher.” And with those defining words she nodded her head to me. I glanced down and saw that I was dressed in the blue robe from my dream.

I knew at that moment, nothing was ever going to be the same again.